The Madness of Noda Megumi
by Liliumscribe
Summary: A short pregnancy fic. Purely diversionary fluff. Nodame is in her final trimester and the hormones kick in.


**The Madness of Noda Megumi**

**Disclaimer:** _Chiaki and Nodame are fictional characters invented by Tomoko Ninomiya. This story is purely fictional and written for entertainment. It is not intended as a statement about obstetrics or a survival guide for pregnant women._

_For kana-chan... because she asked... although I doubt this is what she had in mind._

Noda Megumi was sitting in her obstetrician's waiting room looking utterly dejected. She could barely see past her swelling abdomen down to her toes. The varicose veins had caused the swelling in her ankles and she was experiencing an uncontrollable urge to scratch. She had put on another kilo in the past week which meant that she had now put on 17 kilos in total. Her wedding and engagement rings were dangling from a necklace that was soaking in the beads of perspiration trickling down from her temples. Eight months pregnant and she was feeling noticeably murderous on this particularly fine summer's day.

The doctor strolled out of his office and called out her name. With a great deal of difficulty, she lifted herself off her seat. The lower back pains were kicking in. Slowly but necessarily so, she waddled her way to the room, slightly stooped.

By the time she reached the examination table, she was out of breath and ready to collapse.

"Doctor… I want this baby out of here now!" She glared savagely at the bespectacled gentleman who was glad of the protection that his desk afforded. It seemed to him that the ferocious beast in front of him was liable to attack any moment.

"Mrs Chiaki… you are aware, of course, that obstetrics in not an exact science." The elderly gent clucked sympathetically.

"I don't care if mathematics or counterpoint is involved… get this baby out… My back is killing me, I walk like a duck, I'm carrying an oversized heater the size of a watermelon and I'm swelling up like a balloon. Worst of all, I can't make music with my husband."

"Make music with your husband?" The obstetrician shot her a quizzical look. "Oh, you can't reach the piano keys… you mean?"

"Who cares about the piano…" Nodame grumbled. "It's the other music thing I'm talking about."

"What other music thing?" The doctor stared at her blankly.

"The man and woman music thing." She snapped peevishly as if her brand of sexual euphemism was universally accepted parlance.

"Oh… that music thing…" The doctor's mouth widened into a smile. "It can't be helped unfortunately, Mrs Chiaki. That bundle you're carrying does get in the way."

"I know that!" She growled. "Can't we make up some kind of reason to have the baby early… high blood pressure…"

"You don't have high blood pressure."

"Gestational diabetes then?"

"Mrs Chiaki, you can't rush these things. We have to let nature take its course. You are, of course, only 8 months pregnant."

"Only? Only?! Easy for you to say, you're a man."

"But I'm a husband and a father too."

"But you've never had to carry a baby for nine months." Nodame was getting agitated. "How did I let myself get into such a state?" She moaned.

"I think it's called the man and woman music thing." He suppressed a strong desire to chuckle.

"We have to do something… I can't take another day of this." She waddled clumsily up and down his office.

"Mrs Chiaki… what's really bothering you?"

"I… this baby…hmmph…" She immediately fell silent.

"It's not the baby, is it?"

"It's the baby and this horrible weather." She muttered bitterly. "And…"

"What is it…" He probed gently, noting the scrunged up expression on her face.

"I think… my husband hates me!" She gave a loud wail.

"What makes you think he hates you?"

"He… said… that… I was fat." Her voice betrayed a whimper.

"He did?"

"Uh… huh…" The tears were falling down her burning cheeks.

"Why would he say that?" The obstetrician racking his brains. It was unlikely that during his training days he would have completed "Dealing with Hysteria in Antenatal Cases 101". But even with all his experience… this woman was proving to be in a class all by herself. _However did she become a world class pianist?_

"Because he's an insensitive, perfectionist jerk. I don't know… I'm afraid… I'm losing him."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to say that you're fat."

"What do you mean that he didn't mean to say that I was fat… He said it… I heard him."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He said… he said…" She sniffed pitifully. "That I was growing… noticeably bigger… and needed some new dresses. He asked me if I had anything suitable for his cousin's engagement party."

"And…" He was waiting for the punch line.

"What 'and'! Isn't that enough?"

"It doesn't sound like he was being deliberately insulting."

"He said I was getting bigger… How more insulting does he need to be to be insulting?"

"Mrs Chiaki… I think you are…" _Overreacting_. "Going through a difficult time. The hormones are working overtime and that's pretty normal."_You need to get a grip on reality woman._ "It sounds like your husband is just being thoughtful of your… er… needs." _The man's a saint if he's able to put up with you_. "Why don't you talk it over with him and tell him how you feel." _I'd like to see if either of you come out of this alive._

She calmed down at the soothing tone of voice. "Really… you think that'll work?"

"Absolutely… honest, heartfelt communication… does wonders. I should know. Been married for over forty years."

* * *

Chiaki Shinichi was secretly pleased about the prospect of fatherhood. This was of course after the initial terror had set in and been digested. _The hentai and I are going to be parents… what sort of monster will that combination yield?_

But on this particularly fine summer's day, he was pleased as punch. Even the orchestra noticed a difference… that underneath the iron glove, was a velvet fist. They were intrigued by the frequency of smiles that he was deigned to bestow on his humble subjects. Half the orchestra was smitten and the other half imagined that some kind of powerful aphrodisiac was responsible for the change. Mozart was pink and purple and possibly every other colour that day.

He had hidden it from her… he couldn't have her thinking that he was excited about the baby. Of course not. That would be a blight on his manhood. The plush teddy bear was safely locked away in his study safe. Even he was unable to resist the lure of its forlorn brown eyes while walking past the shop window. To say that he was in a good mood would have been an understatement. Chiaki was ready and willing to embrace fatherhood in its entirety and he felt unstoppable.

He was, however, stopped in his tracks at the sight of Nodame on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw as he staggered forward and clutched on to the bench top. _Nodame… cleaning? What manner of madness is this?_

"What are you doing?" His jaw moved up and down in sheer disbelief.

"What does it look like I'm doing… husband…" She said darkly.

"But… but… you never clean… anything."

"Never?… really…" Her eyes were glowering with malevolence.

"Yes, really. What's wrong?"

"There are curry stains all over the tiles."

"But the maid cleaned the floor yesterday."

"Well, she didn't do a half decent job, did she? I have very high standards of cleanliness, you know. Sheesh… it's hard to get good help these days."

_Did the words "high standard" and "cleanliness" just escape that woman's mouth?_ "What's the matter, Nodame?" He demanded.

"Nothing's the matter. This house is a mess that's all. Do I have to do everything around here?"

"Nodame… what's wrong? It's not like you to be that concerned about cleanliness."

"I've always been concerned about cleanliness."

"Since when?"

"Since…" It was then she broke down and the tears that she had tried vainly to halt, came rushing down. She howled for several minutes before blubbering, "You don't love me any more."

Chiaki felt like a man who had just been thrown into a dark room with no light or instructions. _What the heck…_

He felt the frustration rising inside of him. "Don't be ri…" He stopped himself just in time when he saw her pathetic, mournful eyes looking pitifully at him. "Who told you that?" He knelt down beside her and changed tact.

"You did…" She sniveled, rubbing her nose against the tea towel draped over her shoulders.

"I did? When?"

"This morning."

"Huh?"

"You said I was fat."

"I did no such thing." The indignance in his voice was evident.

"Yes you did. You said I was getting bigger."

It was as if someone turned on the light inside his head. "Bigger maybe but it's not the same as being fat."

"It is…" She insisted, blowing her nose into the aforementioned tea towel.

"You're having a baby, Nodame… of course, you getting bigger. He or she is alive and growing… that is a good thing."

"But it's so heavy and big. I look so ugly…"

"Not to me."

"Really?" She perked up immediately. "Not ugly?"

"Not at all."

She snuggled up to him sideways and mumbled. "I was worried that you were revolted by the way I look."

He put his arms around her and fondled her hair tenderly. "You're the mother of my child. How can you be ugly?"

"If you say so."

"I say so." He took the tea towel from her and then tenderly kissed the tears from her face. "And I know so."

* * *

**Author's Comments:**

_No... no... this is not my sequel to __A Roman Holiday. Just a purely diversionary piece that I hammered out on a quiet Sunday afternoon._

_Some of you may be wondering if this entire piece is autobiographical. While I do have first hand experience myself, I have drawn from the experiences of several women I know. It is true, however, that the last month of pregnancy can be extremely tiresome and having a baby in the hot weather can really strain the nerves._

_Apparently there is a popular theory floating around (not without merit) which suggests that some women in their final trimester develop a "nesting instinct" where they spend much of their time cleaning their home and preparing for the birth of their child._


End file.
